More Time
by dear-lovely
Summary: A fated trip to Filch's office gave the Weasley twins more than what they bargained for.


This story was written for the Finals (! ! !) of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as Beater 1 for the Tutshill Tornados.

Name of the round: **A Different Kind of Magic**

_Your task is to take an element of one of these stories and use it as an inspiration for your own in the form of a quote, theme, plot point, etc._

Prompt for Beater 1: **The Night Circus **— _Erin Morgenstern_

I used Widget and Poppet as my inspiration. In _The Night Circus_, they are twins with particular magic skills dealing with time. Widget could see other people's pasts, while Poppet could tell the future.

These are the optional prompts I'm using:

6\. [object] **an old photograph**

12\. [location] **Shell Cottage**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. J.K. Rowling owns everything from the Harry Potter universe.

TW: Mention of attempted suicide.

Thanks so much to my team for betaing! Here's to our last hurrah together~

* * *

Title: **More Time**

Word Count: 2990

* * *

1989

Filch kicked his office door open. Both his hands were currently occupied from pinching the ears of troublesome first-years. School had just started a month ago, yet Filch had already brought these two in a countless amount of times. He was getting too old for this.

"Quiet down, you two! I'm gettin' sick of your complainin'. Now, you stay right here while I fetch Professor McGonagall. Another Dungbomb… if Dumbledore didn't restrict the old punishments, I would've rightfully disemboweled the pair of you weeks ago!" Filch grumbled as he left his office.

Fred and George Weasley giggled. Attending Hogwarts for the first time meant that they could cause all sorts of chaos that they couldn't do at home.

"Hey, George," Fred nudged him. "What'd you think is inside this drawer?"

They both crouched down to read the label: _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_. Intrigued, George reached down and pulled open the drawer. Inside were all sorts of knick-knacks—Dungbombs, Fanged-Out Frisbees, and a worn-out piece of parchment.

"What's so dangerous about old parchment?" George wondered out loud.

All of a sudden, an ungodly screech sounded outside the door.

The twins looked at each other in alarm. "Filch!"

Without a moment to waste, George grabbed one of the Dungbombs and threw it out the door, which promptly exploded seconds later.

"Aw, crud!" they heard Filch exclaim. As they heard his footsteps walk towards the diversion, Fred stuffed the parchment inside his robes and the twins sprinted out of the office, away from the stench.

When they arrived back at their dorm room, they rushed to Fred's bed and opened up the parchment. Inside, an old photograph fell out. George reached out to examine the voided photograph, while Fred checked the parchment.

"I think the parchment was just used to cover the photograph," Fred remarked. He leaned over to see what George was looking at, then seized the photograph.

Instantly, the twins felt a strong jolt rush through their bodies. As the photograph fell from their grasps, each of them experienced an overload of different images in a split second. The surge stopped as quickly as it began.

They looked at each other in shock. "Whoa…" they uttered simultaneously.

George turned over his hands, then asked. "What d'ya think that did?"

Fred shrugged. "No clue," he responded. He reached over to check the parchment again, only to experience a sudden flash when his fingers briefly touched it.

_The room looked similar to their Defense professor's office, albeit dark and bare from any decorations. Fred recognized it since they had detention there last week._

_The door loudly slammed open and shut, causing Fred to jump. In came a young, tired-looking man gripping onto a piece of parchment. He reached for his chair and hurriedly laid down the parchment, then whispered to it with wand in hand: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." _

_He looked intently at the blank sheet, to which Fred walked closer and witnessed lines and blots begin to appear on the paper. "That can't be possible…" the man muttered. Suddenly, he looked up to where Fred stood but didn't acknowledge his presence. Fred turned to see a small clock marking close to midnight, then noticed the man tucking the parchment away before sprinting out of his office._

Fred woke up from his reverie. He noted that George hadn't noticed his momentary lapse since he was in his own trance. When George picked up the photograph a second after Fred touched the parchment, he was immediately trapped in a flash.

_The photograph was now on the floor in front of a pair of feet, looking cleaner than it was before. George looked up from the floor and saw another pair of redhead twins in front of him. They were about the same height and age, except that their old-fashioned robes looked newer than his. The twin in front reached down to pick up the photograph. _

"_Gideon, what is it?" the other twin asked._

_Confused, Gideon looked at all its sides, then answered. "I think it's an undeveloped photograph, Fabian. I dunno why it's on the floor of the Restricted Section, though."_

"_How peculiar…" Fabian commented before he touched it._

_A familiar jolt overtook the pair, then stopped in a flash._

"_Whoa!" they both jumped._

_The gates guarding the Restricted Section rattled violently._

"_Filch!" the twins whispered, then ran away in a hurry._

George awoke from the vision and looked back at the photograph in his hand. There were now four dark-grey blobs against the black background of the photograph. He looked over to Fred.

"Mate, did you see something just now? Like a vision of some sort?" George asked. "Because I think I saw Mum's brothers." He handed the photograph to Fred. "And look, it's not blank anymore. It isn't much, but something's changed."

"I had a vision of a man opening the parchment, and I suspected it's the same one here. You'd wanna see this." Fred pushed it to him, which now sprouted with darkened lines, blotted circles, and slanted words. On top, the parchment revealed itself to be the Marauder's Map.

George looked closer at the parchment and audibly gasped. "Is that a map of Hogwarts? It says our names right here! Next to two dots inside the Gryffindor boys' dormitory!"

Fred turned to him. "George, I think these visions are important somehow. We need to tell each other when it happens again."

"I agree," nodded George. "And I think it's best if we record them inside a journal. We don't know how often they'll happen, so it's a good way to keep track."

Once they were in agreement, Fred turned to the parchment once more and spotted a certain Caretaker speedily walking towards the Fat Lady's portrait. He nudged George and joked, "No wonder this was highly dangerous."

George smirked in response. "Oh, that'll come in handy."

* * *

1995

Over the years, visions would come and go. They quickly discovered that while George can view the past, Fred can predict the future. It wasn't officially proven until he predicted Gryffindor's winning the Quidditch cup three years prior. In return, George discovered surprising details about people's pasts, including how their uncles had the same time-related visions. Yet one question remained unanswered: _why_ did they have these abilities in the first place?

Surprisingly, the visions haven't gotten too dark, as neither of them witnessed any deaths, past or future. They've all been similar to each other until now.

The twins were up in the middle of the night designing their new pranks when they overheard an argument downstairs. Predictably, they tiptoed down the staircase to eavesdrop on the conversation with an Extendable Ear.

"They think you're a joke, you know? It's difficult to make a name for myself in the Ministry when I always have to hear about your failures," Percy spat out spitefully.

"Percy, I won't tolerate this kind of disrespect under my roof," Arthur reprimanded him. "We've provided and cared for you throughout your whole life, and this is how you repay us?"

"Maybe if you'd respect yourself more, then this wouldn't be happening in the first place," he retorted back. There was a shuffling noise before Percy continued. "If you need me, I'll be in London." With that, he slammed the front door and Disapparated.

Suddenly, Fred was transported.

_Percy, whose tattered clothes were covered in ash and soot, cast a jinx towards a shadowed body, a grin taking up space on his face. "Hello, Minister!" he gleefully shouted. "Did I mention I'm retiring?"_

George nudged him before reeling in the Extendable Ear and returning to their room.

"Another vision?" George asked.

Fred nodded as he sat on his bed. "Yeah, but it's different this time."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

Half of the time, George doesn't know the details of Fred's visions because it would affect the greater good if he knew, and Fred doesn't want to risk it. But this was unusual, so Fred filled him in on the details.

George's initial reaction after Fred finished was to snort. "Seriously? Perce would never retire, he's too much of a Ministry stuck-up."

Fred shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Still, I think it was a vision for a reason. It wasn't like anything I've seen before."

"Don't worry about it too much, we can work out what it meant tomorrow. It's getting late already." George reassured him, then settled into bed.

Resigned, Fred turned over and tried not to think about it too hard.

* * *

1998

Fred vaguely remembers what daytime looks like. As he observed the cramped closet while Lee wrapped up their latest Potterwatch update, he couldn't remember how days looked like a year ago, mostly because he doesn't keep track of dates anymore. It doesn't mean a thing to anyone now that this war takes up everyone's days.

George switched off the transmitter, then rewired it back to a standard radio. "I'll go out there tonight to deliver this to one of the safehouses. As per usual, both of you have to stay here tonight. I'm pretty sure they know who we are by now, so it's best if we're not seen together."

Lee sighed, fully aware that George was right. "Alright, I'm going to sleep now. I'm exhausted. See you, G." He hugged George and shook hands with Fred before leaving the closet.

"You have the stash on you, right?" Fred asked worriedly.

"Of course I do, I'm not a complete idiot," George said with a smirk. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll be back before you know it."

Fred nodded, then hugged him. "Take care."

"You too." With a smile, George left.

Drained, Fred decided to take refuge inside the closet. After the Burrow and Grimmauld Place became unlivable, the three of them sporadically cycled through the safehouses. Tonight, they were at Hogwarts, which was a rare occurrence, but necessary since they were almost caught in the London safehouse. He never imagined himself back at Hogwarts, sleeping inside a closet in the Room of Requirement, but nothing normal was to be expected anymore.

Fred drifted off to sleep, the foreign sound of waves crashing present in his mind.

_He opened his eyes to a view of endless water. The ocean breeze filled his lungs with the sweetness of the salty earth, a fragrance he'd never experienced before. He felt a tap on his shoulder, so he turned to see who it was. Nothing but a worn-out tombstone and a simple cottage stood behind him. Curious, he bent down to read the faded inscription._

_HERE LIES DOBBY_

_A FREE ELF_

_Fred was struck. He'd heard reports of Dobby's death, but it was made a few days prior. Yet, the grave had a distinct aged look that couldn't be replicated. He was sure that this was another vision, but it certainly wasn't like the rest of them._

_An urge bugged him to move on from Dobby's tomb. He briefly placed his hand on top of the stone, then walked towards the cottage. When he entered, he noticed its quaint aura. The living room was comprised of a small sofa and coffee table, only decorated by various books left haphazardly at different places. He looked up to see an intricate cuckoo clock, stating that it was 4:59 PM on May 2, 2000. When the second hand met the minute hand, the clock trilled five times._

_A fist slammed down. "Shut UP!" an angry voice yelled._

_Fred jumped, instinctively going around the corner to see a haggard man hunched over the kitchen table. He immediately blanched. _It couldn't be_, he thought to himself._

_Sure enough, when he took a seat in front of the man, he saw a distorted image of himself. George looked like a mess— his hair shaggy, his beard scraggly, his eyebags enlarged. The smell of the ocean ranked his whole body as if he was attempting to drown himself, but wasn't allowed to. Tentatively, Fred looked down to see the contents before him. It was an assorted variety of colorful pills, in every size, shape, and color, and a half glass full of firewhiskey. _

_Shocked, Fred looked back at his face. He didn't notice it the first time, but his eyes completely changed— once ever-shining and alive, now dead and forever dulled. He doesn't know why George was a wretched mess, but he knows that the reason had pushed him over the edge._

_George collected all the pills in his hand, then held the glass in the other. _

_Fred couldn't believe he's witnessing this. He wants him to stop but doesn't know how to prevent it._

_George looked up to the ceiling with a small smile lingering on his face and whispered, "I'm coming, Fred." He swallowed the handful of pills whole and chased it down with liquor._

_Fred shouted a resounding, "NOOOO!" before he'd been pulled out of the vision._

He shot up from his place on the floor. In a hurry, he searched through his meager belongings for something he'd been holding onto for years. Once he seized it, he grabbed the nearest parchment and quill and quickly wrote.

"Winky," he called out.

The puny elf popped in, half-drunk from her nightly mug of butterbeer. "Mista Weazly!" she squealed. "Whut are you doin' up?"

"Never mind that. I need you to do something for me."

* * *

One month later

As he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his free arm, Fred could feel the duel coming to a close. Right before he sent out his last hex to the Death Eater he was dueling, he caught sight of his brother out of the corner of his eye.

"Percy!" he called out when his opponent fell unconscious.

But Percy wasn't looking his way. Fred followed his line of sight to where Thicknesse's hood revealed his identity.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm retiring?" Percy boasted with a grin whilst sending out a jinx.

Fred couldn't believe it. "You're _joking_, Perce!" he exalted. Out of all the possibilities he'd considered over the years, Fred never imagined that it would've been said out of humor. "You actually _are_ joking, Perce… I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"

* * *

George couldn't believe it. Why was everyone crying? Fred wasn't dead. It's a prank— it _has_ to be.

He noticed that Percy was slobbering all over himself as he tried to say something. "I— Fred was happy…" Percy paused to blow his nose. "He was so happy that I said a joke. That's the last thing he said before—"

"What was the joke?" were the first words George spoke since hearing the news.

Percy turned, slightly startled. "I was dueling with Thicknesse, so I made a joke about retiring from the Ministry."

George finally faced his twin and noted the frozen smile on his face. All of this was so cruel. Wasn't he the one who told Fred not to worry about his vision? Now he has to pay for it.

"Must've been some joke," George muttered before storming out of the hall.

* * *

2000

It had been two years. People kept telling him that it would get better eventually, but it just kept on getting worse. Their shop went bankrupt, the rest of his family stopped talking to him, and now he shut himself away from the rest of the world in Shell Cottage, the last gift Bill granted him before cutting off all communication.

No matter how hard he or anyone else tries, it's always the same result— George was useless without him.

He doesn't remember gathering all the pills in his hand nor drinking half of the firewhiskey in his glass, but he doesn't question it.

George hasn't smiled for two years until now. Looking up, he whispered, "I'm coming, Fred."

A crack interrupted his hand in midair.

"Mister Weasley!" someone squeaked. "Stop!

Startled, he looked down at his visitor. "Winky?"

"Read this," she commanded while holding out a scrap of parchment. As she took a seat, Winky slid something across the table. "And these are yours."

He gingerly took the note from her pruney fingers and began reading.

_George,_

_STOP__. Please. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean you can take your own life. I'm sure I wasn't given a choice whether to stay alive, yet you have the privilege to choose._

_Don't you realize what you have that I don't? You have more TIME. If I had more time, I'd invent new pranks, learn how to knit Mum's ugly sweaters, and smell the ocean breeze. Guess what? You can do all of these things that I never got the chance to do!_

_Appreciate what you've been given that I haven't. I know it isn't fair, but that's life, isn't it? So please, stop wasting any more time. If you don't want to do so for yourself, at least do it for me._

_I love you and I'm always with you, even though I'm not physically by your side anymore._

_See you when you're old and crotchety,_

_Fred_

_P.S.— Don't spoil it for me, but does the Percy vision relate to my death somehow? Remind me to never visit the Ministry again._

As he laughed in disbelief, George didn't realize he was crying until teardrops plopped onto the note. He quickly wiped them away, then turned to the objects in front of him.

It was Fred's vision journal along with the old photograph from long ago, something he hadn't seen in a decade. Instead of inscrutable blobs, the photograph showed two sets of twins. On the left, Gideon scratched the head of Fabian, who had a broad grin on his face. On the right, George saw himself punch Fred's shoulder, whose eyes were crinkled shut and mouth laughed widely. Somehow, he innately knew that the photograph's job was finally complete.

Wordlessly, he offered his hand to Winky, and they Apparated out of there together.


End file.
